Western culture loves perfection. Anything that’s imperfect is rejected or at least offered at a steep discount. When someone asks about a newborn baby, you might hear the cliche, “He has all his fingers and toes.”
In our culture of mass production, we judge quality by how perfectly the widgets pressed out of industrial machinery match each other. It doesn’t matter how boring or soulless or poorly designed a thing is. It’s a quality item if it matches its specifications.
I grew up steeped in that culture of perfection, but the more of life that I experience, the more I’ve found beauty in a kind of imperfection that comes only from brokenness.

Fear and shame can leave us in a fog that destroys relationships
Conflict tonight left me fearing old demons were breaking free
Norman Rockwell or Norman Bates? Holidays are dysfunctional for some
If the kids are confused in school, maybe it’s the system and teachers
Indianapolis talk radio interviews me about Ronnie Bryant story
In defense of the legal right to anonymous speech, political lies
She took an easy way to escape risk, but she’s left to deal with empty life
Constant quest for perfection leaves us confused and paralyzed
I’ll never really know my mother and I’m envious of those who do